06/25/2014 80 °F
I hear the first step of recovery is admitting you have a problem, only I don't want to recover. I want to see a sunset or a sunrise over every ocean. Climb Mayan ruins and snorkel coral reefs. Take a train or carriage ride through the Black Forest at dusk and arrive at the Sydney Opera house at dawn. I want to dance down Bourbon Street with a drink in one hand and a mask in the other as many times as possible while I still can before my legs become too unstable to dance. Then, when the time comes, I'll take my time with aged steps down the sidewalks of Bourbon St. reminiscing about the good ‘ol days, sipping on a Hurricane and savoring the jazz at Preservation hall with a smile just barely hanging on as the humid air weighs heavily in tired lungs; where the street names are all familiar even if the faces aren't.
I have a little thing that most of you on here may be familiar with, a term that travel junkies have referred to over the years as "wanderlust", or the inability to stay in one place for too long of a period of time. The dictionary definition, "a strong desire to travel." My definition? The only way to live a content and full life.
Sure, I was born and raised in Massachusetts, grew up in Massachusetts, bought a house in Massachusetts, have roots, friends, a significant other and family in Massachusetts. However, my skin always itches when I spend just a week or a month too long sitting stagnant without going on an adventure. Some like to call it boredom, those of us who have travel ingrained in our souls like to call it wanderlust. Until you truly, and I mean truly have it, you don't understand it.
Those without it think you travel just a bit too often "for your own good". They crack the jokes that you just bought a house so 'I guess you won't be traveling as much, now will you.' What they don't realize is that for you, traveling is the key to your sanity. It’s what makes sense in a world where the 9 to 5 is not just to pay the bills. The $300 purse or the $80 shoes don’t make you happy and keep you content (although the $300 luggage set may!). You buy the small house, and live within your means and live without the designer handbags and shoes because a trip to the Mayan Riviera and the memories that you create there for a long weekend is worth more than a thousand $300 purses will ever be worth.
So I welcome you to share in my travels, my life, and adventures. Whether a trip to a distant land or a trip down memory lane; thank you for stopping by, and welcome to my adventures in never sitting still!